Paramour Heights High

Chapter 1

I knew family wasn't always blood. It's the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what.

People say you don't choose your family. That they're God's gift to you, as you are to them.

Well screw that, I made up my mind a long time ago to choose my own family. And I did. Eventually.

It's always been mom and I living here in Paramour Heights, she moved us back here before she found out she was pregnant. My grandparents were rich, old money rich, as in own a private jet rich, as in my mom was a trust fund kid and when she found out her parents had passed away, she packed up, left everything behind and moved back into the mansion she called home. Three weeks later after meeting with the lawyers about their will, obviously they left everything to their only child (her), she found out about me. The bump in her plans, literally, she was fifteen weeks pregnant, showing and filthy rich.

My dad's out of the picture, since I have no idea who or where he is and I probably never will. Mom never liked to talk about him and I never really liked to ask about my dad, it wasn't like she'd answer me anyway. Mom would wave a dismissive hand at me and tell me it "didn't matter", that "you're better off not knowing" or that "asking questions" would lead to mom getting angry and sending me to my room, not that I couldn't hear what was going on downstairs. The sound of a cork in one of moms bottles of red popping, then quiet. Later in the night I'd hear glass shattering against the polished marble floors of the mansion. I kept it to myself and mom never offered an explanation.

It was my fifth birthday and mom had tried to make me a cake. She wasn't the best cook, considering we had a chef, but she had put effort into it and I had been so excited about my birthday that it didn't matter. I sat at our large dining room table, we hardly ever used it and I never understood why we even had a separate dining room. I ate at the breakfast bench in the kitchen with my Nanny. Mom was constantly working, so she was never here during the day and would arrive home just before my bedtime to tuck me in.

Nanny Lisette lived in the west wing of the mansion and looked after me every day. She was a beautiful French woman with a thick accent and tattoos covering her right arm. I had a hard time understanding her most of the time but she was funny and gentle and never raised her voice, not that I was bad kid. I wasn't allowed to play with kids my age or go to play groups, mom always said no or that she was too busy. I listened in when Nanny Lisette had tried to persuade her, but mom was stubborn and told her that she was to mind her own business and do the job she was paid for. I was excited to be starting school this year. I'd finally get to make friends my age.

I started getting bored playing dolls by myself so I'd help our chef in the kitchen, he was always friendly (I think he mostly felt sorry for me). Nanny Lisette started teaching me French when I was 3, just random words here and there, colors, foods and animals, all the little things. Once I turned 4 I was stringing sentences together and having conversations with our chef, Frederic LeNotre. He was also French, with long legs and a mustache that curled at the tips. His eyes were always bright and the laugh lines around them made him look older than he was. I loved being around the staff so I wasn't even upset that there were no kids my age at my party.

As Nanny Lisette and the staff sang Happy Birthday, mom lit the candles on the cake.

"Happy Birthday, Graycee!" Mom sang, "Blow out your candles and make a wish."

I loved seeing my mom so carefree and happy, with her black hair framing her flawless face then falling in soft waves just past her shoulders. She was dressed in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater that outlined her hour-glass figure, Clairise Winters was the epitome of gorgeous. Her eyes were a glacial blue and her pouty lips were painted in a dark red that when she'd smile, which was rarely, people would stop and stare.